


wash the poison from off my skin

by sleeponrooftops



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I of castle of glass trilogy.</i>  It’s cold down here, the kind of cold that chills even the spirit of winter right to his very bones, that makes his teeth chatter and his limbs shake, that makes him wish for flowers and a sunny Easter, the kind of chill he’s only experienced once, on the day of his birth.  He hates this cold, hates that, somehow, the Nightmare King has taken the very thing that makes him so very alive and turned it against him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wash the poison from off my skin

**Author's Note:**

> A few small discrepancies—
> 
> i. So, I definitely started this thing as just a small idea, but, as seems to be the progression of everything I write, it turned into something much more. This is the first of three, though it is my belief that this one can be read a standalone and the following two as a pair. Regardless of that, they do still go together. The core of this series is about the evolution of Jack, and so this one will be looking at a few scenes from the film, and then the second and third will be post-film. I think those will go more cohesively together, though there’s always that underlying core of Jack Frost to tie all three together. There’s just a character in the second and third one that will connect the last two more. That said, if you’re curious, go right ahead and read on.
> 
> ii. On the topic of parts, each will be rated differently, though they will progress. The first, as you can see, is rated pg13, the second will be pg13, and the last looks like it’ll be r. So, if you’re uncomfortable with mature content, just don’t read the third part.

It’s cold down here, the kind of cold that chills even the spirit of winter right to his very bones, that makes his teeth chatter and his limbs shake, that makes him wish for flowers and a sunny Easter, the kind of chill he’s only experienced once, on the day of his birth.  He hates this cold, hates that, somehow, the Nightmare King has taken the very thing that makes him so very alive and turned it against him.

 

When he opens his eyes, the world is white and full of sharp, bright pain, his body screaming in protest as he shifts, a groan tumbling from his pale lips.  His breath puffs white in front of him, and Jack stares at it, a gasp shaking through his lungs that leaves him whimpering and sinking back against the cliffside.  He loses the white world after that to darkness.

 

\--

 

Somewhere in his belly, agony rumbles, low and waiting, pulsing deep within him until Jack opens his eyes again, slowly, and they’re not so cold anymore.  His blue gaze travels across the white world of ice to where his staff lies in pieces, and the agony burns white hot, sears him from the inside out.  Jack cries out, flinging his arm over his belly and curling in on himself, his bruised limbs and broken bones shrieking.  Somewhere, distantly, he can hear Baby’s terrified trill.

 

The noise rocks through him, and, unthinking, he surges forward as he catches sight of her, ignores the tear and stretch of his muscles as he cups his hands around her, but he’s shaking, and he can barely lift his hand again when she sneezes.  “Baby,” he whispers, laying his head on the cold ice.  She trills loudly, tugging at a strand of his white hair, but he fades.

 

\--

 

Baby is still tugging at his hair when he wakes again, shaking from a vision of blackness and the sound of his staff snapping.  She trills excitedly as he opens one blue eye, trying desperately to focus on her.  She’s holding something, and it’s glowing, golden light washing over her.  Groaning, Jack pushes off the ground, struggling into a sitting position, and Baby crawls up onto his lap, laying the memories there.  Somehow, he traces his fingers over the pattern and lets the dreams of another lifetime overwhelm him.

 

Jack forgets his aching body and tries to scramble onto his knees when the memory fades, and he ends up hunched over, retching while Baby rubs a tiny circle on his back.  Afterward, he collapses onto the ground, shaking, frozen tears sliding down his cheeks, everything screaming white hot agony.

 

\--

 

The last time Jack wakes, Baby is asleep, shivering violently from the cold.  It is the way her wings have folded slightly that gives him the adrenaline that he needs, forces him onto his hands and knees, and he slowly drags himself over to where his staff lies, hands trembling as he carefully picks up the two pieces, shoves the pain in his belly away until it’s a dull throbbing.

 

His broken sob when the staff refuses to fuse back together is what wakes Baby, and she stumbles over to him, arms wrapped around herself, wings tucked close to her body.  She climbs up the length of his torso, tucking herself in his hood, balanced on his collarbone, and the little flutter of her heartbeat against his skin gives Jack a new burst hope.  He closes his eyes, steadies his breathing, and his eyes flare bright blue when he opens them again, slamming the broken ends of his staff back together.

 

Somewhere, in the dredges of him, he can feel the familiar tug in his spine he gets when calling upon the winter trapped inside him, and he watches in awe as the staff glows blue and white, swirling lights until it’s whole again, and the dull throb is more of a steady drumbeat inside him, something Jack can ignore.

 

He takes a breath, pushing the butt of his staff into the ground, and he climbs to his feet, shaking, a soft, short laugh falling from his cracked lips as he feels a whisper of wind stir around him.  “Wind,” he says, his voice hoarse and shattered, “Take me home.”

 

His vision starts to blacken around the edges, but his feet leave the ground, and Jack knows his old friend will keep him safe.

 

\--

 

It’s Jamie saying his name that pushes everything away, tucks it all neatly in a corner to be dealt with later, and, when Jamie reveals he can see him, Jack thrums with frigid power.  He is numb, driven now only by Jamie and Baby and these children he must protect.  He may not be a guardian yet, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to let his sister’s memory of him die in vain.

 

And so, when Pitch throws him out of the sky, when Jack is reminded of his broken ribs and bruised spine, when something pops and cracks in his shoulder, when he wants nothing more than to cry out and never move again, he thinks of Jamie’s wide eyes, his voice saying Jack’s name.  He can hear Tooth call out to him, and he digs into his last reserve, seeking out the strength there that made his staff whole once more.  He is revived by the memory of his sister and how he must protect Jamie now, and he fights until Pitch is unseen and hunted by his own nightmares.  He fights until North stands before him, Jamie behind him, fights until he is made a guardian, and then he starts to thaw.

 

He walks slowly to the sleigh, struggling to keep composed, and then Jamie calls out to him, and he must put on a brave face, must talk him through his worries and remind him that he will always be there, because he will.  Jamie is his first believer, and he reminds Jack so very, very much of his sister, and he will never let Jamie go from his heart.  Jamie’s hug is tight and warm, thawing him until Jack has to bite back his gasp and fall to one bruised knee, returning the embrace with all the love he can muster.

 

He finds himself crouching on the edge of the sleigh as the portal swallows them, and the rocking motion of the shifting air as they approach the north pole takes the last of his strength, and he sways, Baby trilling suddenly and loudly.  “Baby?” he hears Tooth say nervously, fluttering over, and then Bunny is swearing, and Jack sees darkness.

 

\--

 

The sleigh jostles as it comes to a stop, and North splutters apologetically as Tooth glares fiercely at him.  Bunny carefully steps out of the sleigh, Jack curled in his arms, and Tooth hovers by him while Sandy creates an aura of dreamsand around him, North leading the way to the lift.  “I wonder what’s wrong,” Tooth murmurs, frowning.

 

“It was his first battle against Pitch,” North reminds them, “We’ve all sustained our injuries—it’s just Jack’s first time.”

 

Baby’s worried, shrill voice makes North frown, though, and he jams a few buttons with his thumb, rocketing the lift up to the top floor where Bunny carries Jack to the sofa by the fireplace and lays him down.  He tries to pry Jack’s fingers open to take his staff so they can better inspect him, but his grip is tight and unyielding, his fingers trembling, and Bunny’s brow furrows in confusion, looking up at him, squinting until he sees it, so abrupt it’s like the first spring bloom, blinding him into immobility.  Jack is _afraid_.  He sees it in the lines in his face, the light sheen of sweat on his temples, the shake of his body.

 

Bunny turns to speak, but a yeti is pulling him up and away, kneeling and placing a small basket beside him.  “Maxwell is our doctor,” North explains, and Bunny nods, watching as he retrieves a pair of scissors from the basket and snips a neat line up the center of Jack’s blue sweatshirt.  Beneath is a white shirt stained a dark crimson in spots, and Maxwell snips this down the center, as well.  Tooth turns away with a gasp, North wrapping an arm around her, his eyes wide with shock, and Bunny steps forward, shaking his head.

 

Jack’s torso is a mottled mess of colors, black, blue, yellow, and red—a raw red mark like a burn stretches over his stomach, the stretch of skin above bruised and battered so badly that Bunny has to avert his eyes, and his shoulder out of place and nearly black.  When Maxwell sits him upright to remove the ruined sweatshirt and shirt, his eyes widen, and Bunny looks once at Jack’s back and turns away, standing by the railing.  His back is the same as his front, and it makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

 

Tooth excuses herself with a small sob, and only North and Sandy remain by Jack’s side, North pulling an armchair close and aiding Maxwell in whatever way he can while the yeti gets to work, Sandy keeping a silent vigil by his head, fingers trailing absentmindedly through his white hair, dreamsand flowing lightly around them.  A few elves appear once to collect Jack’s clothes, including the pants Maxwell snips off, revealing his ruined knees, but, aside from that, the floor is empty and silent.  Beneath, yetis continue to work, always preparing for Christmas, but Bunny can barely hear it, his ears roaring.  He remembers his first battle with Pitch, remembers being sore and broken in a few places, but never has he come away like this.

 

When he turns back to face the scene by the fire, he can only remain a few moments before he hops away, unable to swallow past the lump in his throat.

 

\--

 

It’s nearly two hours before North finally finds Bunny and Tooth, and, when they return to the fireplace, the yetis have prepared a small spread of food and hot chocolate.  Jack remains unconscious on the sofa, a thick blanket wrapped around him, and they each take a seat, Sandy dozing by his head until North lightly shakes him awake.  As they sip their hot chocolate, North explains, “Maxwell has done all that he can for now.  He will be going out first thing tomorrow to collect supplies.  Tooth, does Baby have any idea what happened?”

 

After a moment, Tooth nods, though it is some time before she speaks, blinking away tears.  “When we turned Jack away, after Easter was ruined, he—he was in the south, Antarctica, and Pitch had taken Baby.  He found Jack, and he tried—tried to persuade him to join him, to fight against us.  Jack—refused,” she breaks off, lifting a trembling hand to her mouth.  Baby pats her lightly on the shoulder, and Tooth nods before continuing, “They fought, and then Pitch brought out Baby, said that he would let her go if Jack gave him his staff, said that he had a habit of interrupting.  Jack agreed, and, when Pitch refused to give Baby back, she bit him, and he threw her.  Jack—he—Baby is fuzzy on the details, but she thinks Jack tried to fight Pitch, but that Pitch snapped his staff in half.  She said that his—his _scream_ —was terrible, that she had never heard anything like it.  Pitch threw him against a cliffside and then down into a crack in the ice.  Baby was already down there, and she said—she watched him fall, listened to his shoulder shatter and—” Tooth pauses again, shaking her head as she covers her mouth once more, tears spilling from her eyes.

 

“Pitch threw him from the sky,” Bunny recalls, his voice low and disbelieving, “We watched him fall, watched him hit the ground.  I thought—I thought he wasn’t going to get up, I remember thinking that he looked— _dead_.  And then he stood up, but he was leaning so heavily on his staff, and I ignored it.”

  
“Bunny, we all did,” North says, “You cannot blame yourself.  What has happened to Jack is none of our faults, but Pitch’s.  We did all that we could at the time with the knowledge that we had.  Now, we must watch over him until he is better.”

 

Bunny nods, but the group falls into a tense silence.

 

\--

 

The first thing Jack sees when he opens his eyes is a blue and white striped egg.  He frowns, staring at it, until something pops, and he tenses, turning his gaze toward the sound.  A fire rumbles by the end of the sofa he’s lying on, and all the pieces start to fall together.  He carefully places a hand on the edge of the cushion, pushing up until he’s almost sitting, his muscles screaming at him.  Another noise, softer this time, sounds from behind him, and he turns to find Bunny asleep in an armchair, ears drooping.  Aware of his company, Jack bites back a groan as he swings his legs off the sofa and sinks back into it, breath coming fast and shallow.  That’s when he realizes he’s naked.

 

But for the giant fur blanket wrapped around him, Jack’s clothes are absent, and he frowns, tugging the blanket up around his chin, snuggling deeper into it.  He listens for the sounds of the workshop and hears only activity downstairs, and so he makes up his mind, nodding to himself as he scoots to the edge of the sofa, takes a deep breath, and slowly gets to his feet.  His knees ache, and he knows what they must look like, but he ignores them and takes a step forward, immediately regretting it.  Pain lances up his back, and he staggers, gasping.  His legs give out from under him, and he crashes onto his left knee first, yelping at the explosion of pain in his leg as he does.  His cry wakes Bunny, who looks around wildly before settling on Jack, and he jumps from his armchair as Jack sways, eyes rolling, and Bunny is there just before his head hits the ground.

 

North is nearby when he hears the cry, and he hurries down the last length of the hall to where Bunny is straightening, Jack cradled in his arms.  “It’s been three days, North,” Bunny says, and North sighs.  Jack isn’t healing, and they’ve run out of ideas.

 

\--

 

Once they’ve settled Jack in a guest room in the west wing, away from the others’ rooms in the east wing because of the cold he emanates, North and Bunny convene in North’s office, sipping eggnog tiredly.  Sandy and Tooth had left the second night after too long away from their duties, and so now it is left to the two guardians who, Tooth had reminded, only worked once a year and could afford to keep a constant vigil over Jack.

 

“I just don’t get it,” Bunny says from his place on one of North’s overstuffed chairs, feet kicked up on an ottoman.

 

North, seated behind his desk, sighs, “He is immortal, and a guardian at that—his injuries shouldn’t have sustained this long.”

 

“Maybe we’re missing something,” Bunny offers, “Maybe there’s something else that he needs that we can’t—” Bunny breaks off, frowning as the sound of something crashing echoes down the hall.  North stands when another noise cracks the silence, and he’s just striding around his desk when the door flies open, ice crawling over the floor and painting the door.

 

“Bunny!” North exclaims as he hurries over, mindful of the ice.  Outside, Jack is slouched against the wall, his eyes closed, and his head turned to the side.  “Jack?”  At his name, Jack blinks open blue eyes, his breath hitching.

 

“Snow,” he manages to gasp out, “I need to be outside.”  Without a word, North scoops Jack up, who makes an indignant noise, and Bunny snorts from behind them, a small smirk turning up his mouth.  He knows he can’t deny it now, how much he enjoys have the little winter spirit around, and he can see Jack feels the same when he weakly makes a face at him.

 

North waves the yetis away as they take the lift down almost to the bottom, stopping the level above the tunnels where the sleigh is located, and North walks briskly toward the massive double doors, trying not to jostle Jack, who stirs, a pitiful noise falling from his lips as the yetis prepare to open the doors.  Already, he can feel the cold seeping in, and, when the doors open, he sighs, eyes slipping shut for a moment.

 

“Put me down,” he mumbles after North has stomped outside into the high snow, Bunny waiting inside.  North carefully sets Jack on his feet, and he turns to the tall man, still curled in the fur blanket.  “Can—can you leave this outside?  Or put my clothes somewhere out here?” he asks, and North nods immediately, smiling at the way the pink is already starting to leave Jack’s face, fading back to his normal white.

 

“Of course.  Come back, Jack.”

 

“I will,” Jack says, and then he’s disappearing beneath the fur blanket until it’s in a crumpled heap, and North lifts it, a small flurry left behind from where Jack has burrowed into the white masses.  He takes the blanket back with him, nodding to Bunny as he returns.

 

\--

 

On the fourth day, Jack finds his clothes in a bag tied to one of the windows, his staff looped through the strings, and the wind carries it down to him, swirling around him as he carefully dresses, pulling the hood over his head with a sigh.  “Wind, take me home,” he whispers when he’s done, staff curled tightly in his hand.  He holds it close to him as the wind lifts him, cradling him in a blanket of cold air, and Jack sleeps as he’s taken away.

 

On the seventh day, he wakes with a yawn in a high tree, spread eagle across the frozen branches.  He loves to sleep up high, where the wind is always a presence, rustling past him and around him, colder up here than it is closer to the ground.  His back still aches a little, though, and so he leaps lightly into the air, knowing the wind will take him where he needs to go.  Though he’d promised to return to the pole, he’s not quite ready yet, and so he goes home, truly home, to an ice cave in New Zealand that he made so many years ago.

 

On the fourteenth day, Jack bursts from his cave, laughing loudly as the wind lifts him high and he soars over the beautiful country he calls his home.  “Take me to see the others,” he asks, grinning widely.  The journey to the pole doesn’t take long, and he enjoys the flight, flipping through the air and balancing precariously on his staff.  He doesn’t like to let it stray from his hands long, though, afraid he might never hold it again.  Pitch has reminded him how very deeply ingrained the staff is in him, and he will never treat it so lightly again.

 

When he circles the workshop, drawing beautiful ice designs on the windows, the yetis raise a thunderous noise, and Jack laughs, landing on the balcony of North’s office just as the man himself bursts through the door.  He taps his staff on one of the tall window panes, smiling as it slides open, ice coating the floor.  “Jack!” North cries, and Jack laugh as he’s enveloped in a tight, warm hug.  He’s still not used to being seen and believed in and _touched_ , but he returns the embrace, his heart thumping in time with the pulse of the staff in his hand, a steady thrum of power.

 

He is home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, it’s done. So, I’ve had the second part of this written for a few weeks now, but I really wanted to post them in order, so I was pushing myself so hard to finish this, and, while I do like it, I can’t wait to show off the next two parts. They’re so much more fun, and so much longer. I really wanted to look at everything that happened to Jack in the film, though, so I hope you enjoyed, and don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


End file.
